


Apologies

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: Ficlets [17]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Makeup, Married Couple, Petty fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: “You still mad?” Nigel asked. Adam scowled at him and turned back to his telescope, adjusting all the things Nigel didn’t dare touch for fear of breaking the damn thing. “Still mad,” Nigel confirmed.
Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Series: Ficlets [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774918
Comments: 10
Kudos: 165





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedwitness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedwitness/gifts).



“You still mad?” Nigel asked. Adam scowled at him and turned back to his telescope, adjusting all the things Nigel didn’t dare touch for fear of breaking the damn thing. “Still mad,” Nigel confirmed.

Adam didn’t respond. This would have been normal— since they’d moved out of the city, Adam spent most nights staring up at the stars for at least an hour, completely unable to pull himself away—but Nigel knew his husband. He knew the difference between happily fixating, and purposefully giving Nigel the cold shoulder.

“Baby,” Nigel cooed, slipping his arms around Adam’s waist. He nuzzled along the curve of Adam’s throat, planting kisses along the skin there. Adam was a sucker for soft, almost tickling kisses, and Nigel could feel him beginning to unwind. “Was it really so big a deal?”

Wrong move. Adam scoffed and pulled free of Nigel’s arms, returning to his telescope.

Nigel had a bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth. That was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place; he never seemed to know when to bite his tongue, and though he was better with Adam than he’d ever been with anyone else, he was still prone to missteps.

It didn’t help that sarcasm and metaphor both flew right over his husband’s head, and more than once something Nigel said had been taken in the completely wrong way.

Adam didn’t like to feel like his feelings and concerns were being disregarded or ignored. Nigel, on the other hand, could never seem to help himself when it came to deflecting and trying to minimize a situation. This wasn’t the first time it had caused a disagreement between them.

But Nigel knew his husband, better than anyone else in the world. That knowledge might not have been enough to keep him from fucking up in the first place, but he knew what to do now that the damage had already been done.

“Alright, darling. You look at your stars for a bit.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Adam’s head, sighing. “Don’t stay out too long, it’s getting cold.”

“M’not a child,” Adam muttered.

“Course not,” Nigel agreed, draping his own coat over Adam’s shoulders.

First, dinner. Well, more of a late-night snack since they’d already eaten. Adam had a strict schedule he adhered to, and he didn’t like surprises, but he was a fan of ‘treats.’ They’d come to a mutual agreement to try and be more diverse in their meal planning (which mostly meant reducing chicken and broccoli night to only three nights a week instead of all seven), and mac and cheese had become a ‘sometimes’ food (‘sometimes’ being ‘at least twice a week when the texture or seasoning of something new disagreed with Adam and Nigel made it in apology).

Mac and cheese taken care of, Nigel began to move furniture about the living room. The coffee table was flipped up and shoved against the wall; the afghan across the back of the couch found itself joining a pile of bedding on the floor.

Finally, Adam’s little projector, which Nigel treated as if it was made of glass, carefully setting it up to cast galaxies across the room.

Adam, stubborn as ever, was shivering by the time Nigel came out to fetch him, his skin chilled when Nigel wrapped arms around him and slid a palm under his shirt to cup his belly.

“Angel,” he said, kissing Adam’s cheek to feel his reluctant smile. “Let me make it up to you?”

“I’m looking at the stars.”

“I brought the stars to you. They’re in the living room.”

Adam turned in his arms. He knew Nigel as well as Nigel knew him, and there was a fond exasperation to his motions as he slid his arms around Nigel’s neck. “I made that projector,” he said, “that’s cheating.”

“Is it working?”

“Did you make me a snack?”

Nigel laughed, pulling Adam up into a soft kiss. “Go get comfy,” he said.

They ended up in their pajamas—boxers, for Nigel—curled up on the living room floor in a pile of every blanket and pillow they owned while Adam pointed out stars and planets. Living Room Campouts were Nigel’s favorite trick; he’d heard the descriptions a thousand times before, but Adam never tired of explanations. Nigel never tired of listening to him talk.

Eventually, Adam began to falter, sleepy and soft in Nigel’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Nigel told him when his chatter finally ceased, whispering the words into the crown of Adam’s head. “I won’t do it again.”

“You will,” Adam mumbled, “but then you’ll make it up to me.”

“Always, baby, always.”

For a moment, they were quiet, drifting in their sea of stars. Then—

“Nigel?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I can’t sleep like this.”

Nigel hid a smile against Adam’s cheek. “I’ll go put sheets back on the bed.”


End file.
